Psishipping Shorts
by WiseAbsol
Summary: A collection of encounters between Mewtwo and Sabrina, set in a variety of universes. In this chapter: "You're a psychic. What else you are doesn't matter to me." Or: Sabrina meets Mewtwo at her local library, and he remembers the rumors he's heard about her.
1. Cherry Wine

**CHERRY WINE**

* * *

"In the New Year, may your hand always be stretched out in friendship, never in want."

—An Irish New Year's toast.

* * *

Half-buried in snow, with the windows on either side of its redwood door still strung up with Christmas lights, _The Ninetales' Den_ wasn't one of the more noticeable pubs in Saffron City. To be fair to the bar, it did have a variety of pleasurable poisons to choose from, but its array of drinks was the only real perk it had. The music playing over the radio was garbled, while the television usually only displayed a flurry of static. Dusty gambling games were all that were provided for entertainment. The shelves that might have been used for coats and gloves were instead cluttered with souvenirs from passing trainers (who'd seemed to have little taste), while the timber of its walls reeked of tobacco smoke. Overall, the place was old-fashioned and forgettable.

Despite this, _The Ninetales' Den_ was Sabrina's favorite spot in the city. With her long overcoat wrapped around her, she entered the pub and shivered at the change in temperature. The musty scent of the bar hit her nose the next moment, while the emptiness of the room hit her psychic senses. Only the bartender, who was adjusting the antenna of the television until the parade in Viridian City came into focus, was there. Flashes of light from the fireworks illuminated human and pokémon faces alike, and even from this distance, their excitement was palpable.

That loud giddiness was what Sabrina had come here to escape. Her parents were holding a celebration at the Gym, and she knew that her presence would only put a damper on their visitors' fun. They still believed that she was the gloomy person she had been in her teens, so it was probably for the best that she'd left early. She didn't like parties much anyway—all of the clashing thoughts and emotions usually gave her a migraine by the end of the evening.

So that left her alone—and lonely—tonight. But she had a plan: she would wash away her sorrow with a drink and then, with some luck, would find a handsome stranger to spend the night with. Maybe that wasn't the healthiest solution for her to turn to, but it worked better for her than the alternative. She hadn't had much luck in maintaining a serious relationship, in part due to her work schedule and in part due to her reputation. Those that knew who and what she was feared her for it, and those who didn't often didn't stay long enough to learn that she knew how to smile. She'd come to accept their rejection, but she wasn't willing to give up on physical intimacy entirely. Not when one-night stands were still an option.

Not that those were always easy to line up. Too many people knew her face, and as tempting as it might be for them to get into bed with a celebrity, many of them were afraid of having their brains fried towards the completion of the deed. Which was ridiculous—her psychic energies wouldn't touch anyone she was with, and she wasn't about to invade their minds, either. She didn't _want_ to know what they were thinking about as they pounded into her.

All she wanted was someone's touch and warmth for a few hours—for someone to rest peacefully beside her after they were finished. She rarely had the opportunity, though, and not from a lack of trying. She _tried_ to be friendly and pleasant to be around, and she knew that she was beautiful. It just seemed like she was cursed when it came to relationships.

Shoving her dreary thoughts aside, Sabrina undid the buttons of her coat and hung it on the back of her chair at the bar. Her mauve dress and her black leggings hugged her curves, while her silk shawl kept her bare shoulders from freezing. She took off her high heels, knowing that Tyler, the owner of _The Ninetales' Den_ , wouldn't care. She'd been in his pub enough times that they were on friendly terms.

"I'll have a glass of _Madam Jynx's Cherry Wine_ , if you have any," she told him.

He nodded and took a bottle down from one of the shelves. He pulled out the cork and poured her a large glass of the red wine. "Of course, 'Riny. I always keep some around for when you wander in. Since it's New Year's Eve, I'll give you the first glass on the house."

She smiled. "That pet name will ruin my reputation, Tyler. But thank you. I appreciate the gesture." She sipped at her drink, allowing its sweet taste to console her.

An hour later, another lonely outcast drifted into the bar. Mewtwo had his own reasons for feeling bitter around this time of year, the least of them being the icy weather. The only pleasure he took from the holiday season was in the decorations. He liked the flickering Christmas lights and the crystal stars in the pine trees. He liked the smells of peppermint and gingerbread in the air, and the beauty of the moonlit snow. The feelings of love and happiness permeating the cities, however, bothered him more than the incessant ringing of the charity bells. They reminded him that he was alone, having no family or mate of his own.

Usually this didn't bother him, but on nights like tonight, he longed to be close to someone. He wasn't looking for a commitment—he traveled too much to make a relationship work, even if his partner was willing to set the matter of his true form aside. Temporary liaisons served him better. He always tried to make that clear to his partners from the start, though some reacted to that better than others. For that reason, he tried not to stay in the same city for too long, and never slept with the same person twice.

This sometimes made finding a partner difficult for him, though, because Mewtwo was rather _picky_. Between his looks and his charisma, he didn't have trouble attracting women while in his human form (which Mew had taught him how to attain years earlier, so he could blend in). But he wanted someone who he could hold an intelligent conversation with, who wasn't afraid to debate with him, and who wasn't intimidated by his powers. Hoping he would find someone like that in _The Ninetales' Den_ , he entered the shabby bar, drawn by the Christmas lights in its windows and by its somber ambience.

There were a dozen people sitting at the tables, some playing cards, while others were deep into their drinks. Shaking the snow from his cloak, he stepped over to the bar to get one for himself. He put a few seats between himself and the woman already there, in case she wanted the space, and got the bartender's attention.

"May I have a White Russian on the rocks?" he asked, his physical voice just as rich as his telepathic one.

The bartender nodded and mixed him his drink. As he poured and handed it to Mewtwo, he asked, "Will that be it?"

Mewtwo sipped it, smiled in approval at the taste, and said, "For now."

As he drank, the clone looked up at the television screen and watched the PokéFloats of the parade drifting down Main Street. As the people standing on the pikachu float laughed and threw candy to the cheering crowd, he wondered what it felt like to be so caught up in the excitement. He wasn't certain that he wanted to find out for himself, though.

A woman's voice brought him out of his musings. "That drink is practically a dessert, you know."

Sabrina didn't often initiate conversations with strangers, but the alcohol had made her more flexible on that point. Besides, she'd meant what she'd said—even with the vodka mixed into it, he was essentially drinking melted ice-cream.

For the first time, Mewtwo looked at the woman directly. She was gazing at him with keen red eyes. Her black hair reached to the middle of her back, and what skin she showed was nearly as pale as his own. Her hairstyle caught his attention more than her dress (though that brought out the color of her eyes nicely): her bangs were cut perfectly straight, while the rest of her hair—which covered her ears—had no layering to it at all. It looked utilitarian, but it also suited the sharp angles of her jawline and cheekbones.

Defiantly sipping his sugary drink, he asked, "And what would you suggest instead?"

Sabrina took the bottle in front of her and tipped some of her wine into his glass. No doubt it would taste foul now. "That ought to be more mature," she said lightly. "Try it. Maybe it will help you refine your tastes."

Mewtwo sniffed at the mixture and wrinkled his nose at the fruity smell. He wasn't about to turn down a challenge, though, so he downed the drink in one gulp. He nearly gagged at the flavor and wondered if his face had gone green from disgust. When he managed to respond, he croaked out, "Cherries? You must be trying to poison me."

Sabrina laughed. It was a heartening sound, and from his hunched pose, he looked up at her and watched how her eyes lit up with amusement. Though she had just persuaded him to toss a toxic substance down his throat, he had to admit that her spirit appealed to him—that and the way she was wearing that dress. He wondered where this conversation might lead. Was she looking for some company tonight? Straightening in his seat, he asked the bartender for another drink and hoped that she was.

Sabrina, who was as cautiously hopeful about her drinking partner as he was, told Tyler that she would pick up the newcomer's tab. After all, one needed an ample amount of money when teaching someone how to drink, and the man would be paying enough for it later with a headache and an upset stomach. She was not aware of the fact that Mewtwo had a higher tolerance for alcohol than most humans, of course—but even so, he appreciated the offer.

When he was halfway through his refill, Mewtwo asked her, "Why wine? It's New Year's Eve. Wouldn't champagne be more appropriate?"

"Champagne is for those who are celebrating. I'm not."

"And why aren't you?"

She swirled her drink in her glass. "It's difficult to celebrate when you're feeling lonely. Even my pokémon are spending their holidays with other people."

Mewtwo's thoughts caught on her having a pokémon team. His eyes narrowed. "You're a trainer?"

So he didn't have any idea who she was. Sabrina found that she liked that thought very much. It meant that she could continue to be herself around him. "It's my occupation, but I don't snatch pokémon up from the wild. I have my team and we take care of each other. We only battle when we're challenged by someone else. Right now, they're visiting some old friends in Lavender Town. They'll be returning in a day or two."

Sensing that she treated her pokémon with respect, at least, Mewtwo relaxed. He kept his aura hidden from her though, just in case. If she was a psychic, he didn't want her to realize what he was. He didn't realize that she was doing the same thing to conceal her own powers. So they continued to enjoy their drinks, unaware of each other's secrets. As his eyes traveled over her, Sabrina's gaze lingered on his fair hair and skin, and on the strong lines of his jaw and brow. The gray cloak he wore concealed most of his body, but he seemed to have a lean build.

"And what about you?" she asked him. "What do you do?"

He glanced at the clock in the bottom corner of the television screen. There were two minutes left until midnight. "I travel around the world and study people," he replied.

Sabrina tilted her head. "Like an anthropologist?" When he nodded, she asked, "Have you concluded anything about me yet?"

That he would like to take her somewhere private, but it was probably too soon to say that. "I think there is something about you that sets you apart from other people. I think that you're proud of it, even though it makes your social life difficult. I think that you'd rather be alone than at a party tonight, but I think that you still want to spend New Year's Eve with someone, despite that," he added, with a gesture to her dress. "Was that near the mark?"

"It was," she confirmed. She definitely wasn't going to tell him who she was now, if she could help it.

She looked up to watch the countdown to the New Year instead. When there were only thirty seconds left, the others in the bar joined the chant that was being recited throughout Kanto. The Crystal Sphere of Viridian fell and the anticipation of the viewers built up as the seconds ticked down: _three, two, one..._

" _HAPPY NEW YEAR_!" the shouts rang through _The Ninetales' Den_.

When it did, Sabrina turned and kissed the stranger on the mouth—and suddenly, Mewtwo found that he didn't mind the taste of cherries, when it was combined with the taste of her lips and tongue. He drew her against him as the others hooted and whistled, and as fireworks lit up the sky outside. As Sabrina and Mewtwo pulled apart, they smiled at each other. The kiss had been as enjoyable as they'd hoped.

A few minutes later, they paid for their drinks and Mewtwo offered her his arm. Sabrina took it and they walked out into the night together. They passed by the plaza of the Silph Company, where people were dancing, and the Electric Railroad Station, where a live band was playing. Neither of them felt tired, and while they did not speak, they glanced at each other often and smiled when they were caught doing so.

Eventually, Sabrina brought him to her home, since he didn't offer to bring her to his. That was fine with her—she liked waking up in her own bed anyway. Mewtwo stared as she unlocked the gates to the Gym and her family manor, though. Only now was he beginning to suspect who she was. It would have been amusing, if it didn't also worry him. Would she sense the truth about what he was? What would she do if she did? Would she try to capture him? While he didn't mind the idea of roleplaying a servant-and-mistress type of relationship as foreplay, he didn't want to make it a reality. Even with his doubts, though, he followed her inside. If something went wrong, he could always erase her memories of him and teleport away. Though that seemed like a shame—she felt like someone he could grow fond of, if he had the chance.

Sabrina, oblivious to his dilemma, led him through the manor's dark and vacant hallways. Her parents' guests had already left, leaving confetti in their wake. Her parents, she sensed, were already asleep in their bedroom. That was good. She didn't want to be disturbed with the man she'd brought home. When they reached the stairs that led up to her room, she turned towards him and kissed him on the mouth again. While he seemed more reserved now, he still smirked at her and his eyes gleamed as she told him to go on ahead of her. Mewtwo did so, not minding following this order from a human, since it fit in perfectly with his own plans.

He found her bedroom easily. Her aura clung to the fibers of her queen-sized bed, to the grains of her wooden desk and nightstand, to the pictures on her walls and the books on her shelves. Strangely, there was a dusty white ball sitting in one of the corners of the room, though what the toy symbolized to her, he couldn't guess. He turned on the lamp, then went to sit on her bed and wait for her.

She was wearing a red night robe when she arrived. She was holding a lit candle in her hand as well, which she used to light the others on her desk. The scent of pomegranates soon flooded the room. She asked him if he minded, but he shook his head. When she turned the lamp back off, he enjoyed how the flickering glow from the candles streaked her dark hair with gold. She looked so soft now, and as he watched her, she shivered. Was that from excitement or the cold? Either way, he would do his best to warm her up.

Then, as if she was a belated Christmas present, Sabrina untied her robe and hung it on the bedpost. As he took in the sight of her, Mewtwo felt his blood rush downwards. She was lovely…but before he could reach for her and drew her down to him, she stepped forward and tugged at the folds of his cloak. "Your turn. Now that you've seen me, it's time for you to return the favor."

He obeyed, undoing the ties of his cloak, though there was another one underneath it that he had to remove, along with his actual clothes. When Sabrina saw that, she cocked an eyebrow at him. "Are you some kind of monk, stranger?"

He chuckled. "If I was, then I have not kept my vows very well. Don't worry—this is the last of it."

Once he was undressed, Sabrina looked him up and down. Her eyes lingered on certain areas of his body, and her smirk grew as she decided that she was pleased with what she saw. She was glad that she'd chosen to take him home with her. Now to enjoy the remainder of the night with him.

Mewtwo moved before she could, wrapping his arms around the waist and dragging her onto his lap. They laughed as they explored each other, their kisses and caresses getting heavier and needier as they went on. Eventually they slid together with a gasp, their breaths catching as they figured out the rhythm that worked best for them.

As they moved and their control slipped, their mental barriers weakened. Where the shields brushed together, they hissed, crackled, and dissolved. Snatches of thoughts and memories and _sensations_ flitted through the soft spots, distracting them from their pleasure and unnerving them both. There was also something alluring about the experience, though, when the strength of their senses doubled, and when it felt like there were now four hands on their bodies instead of two, and when they peered deeper into each other's souls and realized, _You've been called a monster too,_ and then thought a moment later, _but you don't feel like one to me._

Mewtwo knew an instant of terror when she slid deeper into his mind and discovered exactly what he was—and what he'd done in his youth. The laboratory he'd destroyed, the creators he'd killed, the Nurse Joy he'd held captive—she saw all of that. But Sabrina did not push him out and away from her like he expected her to. She only held him tighter, accepting that part of him with a whisper of _I understand_ and _I won't judge you_ into his thoughts. Then she gave him glimpses into her own past—of her childhood home in ruin, of her father retreating from her, or her mother trapped in the form of a doll. _I_ cannot _judge you,_ she said.

It made his heart ache for her, so he buried his nose into her hair and breathed in the scent of her perfume. He licked her beneath her ear, dug his fingertips into her thighs, and drove himself into her harder. He listened to the sounds she made, shivered at how her nails raked down his back, and felt her hips buck against his. When she moaned and told him not to hold back, he didn't, and soon he felt her arc up underneath him, shuddering. The white wash of her pleasure spilled over into his mind, bolstering his own. He hit his own peak a few seconds later.

Afterwards, they laid together in the sheets of the bed, enveloped in the afterglow. When they'd both caught their breaths, Sabrina asked him, "What does your true form look like?" She wanted to know. His memories had never shown his body in its entirety.

Mewtwo hesitated, but why continue to hide himself from her when she already knew the truth? So he transformed, his form glowing as his features shifted from those of a human into those of a bipedal cat. Sabrina looked him over, then reached up to stroke his face, to feel how it had changed. There was no disgust in her eyes, though, and she did not seem disturbed by the fact that she'd had him into her body just minutes ago. Perhaps to prove that to both of them, she closed the distance between them and tentatively pressed her mouth against his.

Mewtwo stiffened. He wasn't used to being kissed while he was in his true form. Sabrina, noticing how tense he was, asked him, "Was that alright?"

" _Yes. It just felt...strange,"_ he admitted. " _I am not used to being intimate with someone in my true form."_

"That doesn't seem right. You should feel comfortable in your own skin—or in your own fur." She took one of his paws into her hands and stroked his knuckles. "Would you like to work on that?"

His eyes went wide at her suggestion. " _Are you certain that_ you _would like to?"_

She kissed the back of his paw. "I'm willing to try it if you are." She closed her eyes and he heard her whisper in the back of his mind. _I like you. I want to see if it could work._

He brushed his mouth against hers. " _If you decide that it's not to your liking at any point, tell me and we'll stop."_

"Will you do the same?" she asked him.

" _I will, though I doubt that will happen,"_ he said, drawing her back into his arms. Her body, after all, was not the one that had changed.

Their touches were more hesitant this time, almost virginal, but soon desire was burning through them again. When they joined together, it felt undeniably different—their movements more jarring and their melding senses mismatched, due to the differences between their bodies. But it also felt more personal to them, because they were no longer trying to hide their secrets from each other. They were making them together instead. So they went slowly, savoring the experience and letting the ache of it deepen. Eventually, Mewtwo groaned her name, and Sabrina shivered at how he said it—at how he made it sound like something wonderful. Even though he knew who she was and what she'd done, he hadn't turned away from her. He was still here, still filling her up and still filling the empty space inside of her heart. Even if this would only last for a short while, that meant a great deal to her.

By the time they finished, they were hot and weary. When they curled up together afterwards, Sabrina murmured, "Well, stranger, I'm all worn out. Would you keep me company while I sleep?"

His brow was furrowed with thought, but he smiled as he said, " _Of course."_ He was willing to stay with her in her nice, soft bed, if that was what she wished. Sabrina smiled, drew the blanket over them, and closed her eyes. He did the same. They soon fell asleep and slept deeply, soothed by each other's warmth.

Sabrina woke before dawn to the sound of fabric rustling. As she blinked to clear the film from her eyes, Mewtwo came into focus. He was still in his true form, but was donning his outmost cloak. The rest of his clothes were folded and stacked on her desk. For a moment, she wanted to protest, to tell him that he could stay with her longer if he wished. She thought about offering him breakfast to persuade him. But then she saw him glance at her alarm clock, his brow knit with worry. Maybe there was somewhere that he needed to be. Maybe he was worried about his safety—or hers—if they were discovered like this. Whatever the case might be, she would respect his wishes, even if didn't want him to leave.

With a sigh, she said, "Were you planning to say goodbye?"

If he was startled by her voice, he didn't show it. " _You were sleeping so soundly. It seemed cruel to wake you. I thought it would be better to leave you a note."_

She sat up and drew the blanket around herself for warmth. "A note isn't a proper goodbye. What would you say in it, anyway? 'Thank you for having me—let's do it again sometime'?"

" _Something like that,"_ he said. " _I will keep your preferences in mind for the future, though."_ He picked up his stack of clothes and tucked it under his arm. _"I should be going. It's almost daybreak."_

She knew she should let him be on his way, but even so, she asked, "Are you certain there's nothing I can get for you before you go?"

The clone gave her a slightly sad smile, seeing her stalling tactic for what it was—an attempt to prolong their encounter. He understood how she felt. " _If there was time, I would ask you for a cup of tea. But we will be discovered if I linger here any longer."_

"You could become a human again. No one would have to know what you really are," she said.

" _But that is not who I am_ — _not in truth, Sabrina,"_ he reminded her gently.

Seeing the shadow of sorrow in her eyes, Mewtwo went to her and cradled her mouth against his. He imagined what it would feel like to share tea with her, to sit on her bed and sip the hot, sweet beverage. He imagined them talking about anything and nothing at all. But he was not a human and she was not a pokémon. There were limits to how much time they could spend together while still being themselves.

With a whispered farewell, Mewtwo teleported away, leaving Sabrina alone in her bedroom, but with her memories of him intact. Falling back into her pillows with a sigh, the Gym Leader turned her face and pressed her nose into the fabric. The scent of him was still caught in it, musky and sweet, and she wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

Her eyes shot back open as a realization struck her: she'd forgotten to ask what his name was. As she cursed herself for her forgetfulness, she saw her haunter materialize above her desk. When he read the note that the clone had left, he turned to her with a sly grin. Feeling her cheeks warm, Sabrina telekinetically drew the paper to herself and snatched it out of the air before the ghost could grab it.

The note read: " _I have heard that humans make resolutions on New Year's Eve. While I am not one of your kind, I think I will also make one this year: to see you again. Since you said that you feel lonely during the holidays, I will return then. I will be at_ The Ninetales' Den _on Valentine's Day. I hope that you will join me. Sincerely, Mewtwo."_

She reread the message several times before teleporting it into one of the locked drawers of her desk. She murmured his name to herself afterwards, feeling how the syllables felt on her lips and on the tip of her tongue. With a smile, she whispered, "It's a date, then," and rose from her messy bed, retrieving her robe and wrapping it around her. Soon her parents would be making breakfast, her other pokémon would be returning from their trips, and the trainers would be arriving at the Gym, bright-eyed and hopeful. Suddenly, the birth of the New Year didn't seem so lacking in promise.

Meanwhile, from a meadow east of Saffron, Mewtwo watched the city skyline gleam in the gathering dawn. In the center of that town was someone he was already looking forward to returning to. In a few months, he would be in the unremarkable pub where they had met, waiting for her to sit down beside him. Smiling at the thought, Mewtwo teleported away, with the sweetness of her lips and cherry wine still on his tongue.


	2. Beneath the Rain

**BENEATH THE RAIN**

* * *

This story is dedicated to Meriah.

"The hours I spend with you I look upon as sort of a perfumed garden, a dim twilight, and a fountain singing to it. You and you alone make me feel that I am alive. Other men it is said have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou are enough."

—George Edward Moore.

* * *

On the evening that her husband left for Saffron, it rained.

It poured steadily on the estate that Sabrina now called home, its rumble filling the quiet that rose in Giovanni's absence. For a time, she watched the water spiral from the eaves of the roof. She watched it wash over the stepping stones and the shrine in the courtyard. She watched it bathe the pomegranate, persimmon, and cherry trees, all of which were heavy with fruit. She watched the sun peak through the storm clouds, its amber light making the raindrops shine like falling beads of copper. She watched it until the sunlight faded and then pulled the curtains of the window shut. Between the fabric and the gathering dusk, the interior of the bedroom wouldn't be seen, even if anyone had tried to look.

Turning away from the window, she went to her vanity. She lit the scented candles there, which were nestled among bottles of perfume and one of wine. The fragrance of jasmine soon permeated the room, sliding into the closet to her left, under the locked door to her right, and into the fibers of the plush carpet and king-sized bed. She breathed in the scent with a sigh, savoring it as much as she had when she'd been a child, when her mother had decorated their house with the flowers.

She reached up and let her hair down from its bun, then poured a glass of wine and set it near the candles. Its bouquet nestled in her nose with the jasmine, while the firelight made the dark hue of the drink sparkle. That done, she took a master ball out of her robe's pocket and kissed it. It was empty, she knew—its occupant only stayed in it when he was healing from his battles—but even so, she wanted to make the gesture. She wanted to signal that she was ready for him to join her.

Maybe he'd been there the entire time, waiting for that kiss to summon him to her side. Or maybe the kiss called him from somewhere else within the mansion, such as his own rooms. Either way, Mewtwo approached her from behind and slid his arms around her. He pressed his muzzle into the curve of her neck, a purr rising in his throat as he kissed her skin. One of his legs slid between hers, while his tail swept behind them in a slow, lazy arc. His eyes gleamed when she turned to face him and brushed her lips against his.

She shivered at the way his irises glinted sapphire in the gloom, and at how he caressed her through her robe. He dipped his head to nip at her shoulder, but he did so gently, so it wouldn't leave a mark. Even during their roughest, most hurried trysts, he was always careful about that. Neither of them wanted Giovanni to suspect what they were doing, or for him to worry that she was training with the clone too strenuously. If he asked them to take a break, when would they have the chance to meet? The wait between his business trips could stretch for weeks, if not longer. No, it was better to avoid arousing suspicion.

He took her left hand and gently slid the wedding ring from her finger. Somehow, it felt less like a slight to Giovanni if she wasn't wearing it when they did this. Neither of them wanted to hurt him—but this also wasn't about him. What they shared was something separate from him, something that had started years ago. They'd thought they could ignore their history when they'd met again, but it had not turned out that way. So now they lived two lives and sometimes felt torn between them. But it was easy to ignore the ache of it when they were this close again.

Sabrina broke the silence between them, her voice rising into the jasmine-scented air. "We need to talk," she said, though there was no edge or urgency in her voice.

Mewtwo drew back and cupped her chin in his paw. His thumb brushed over her lips. " _Can it wait?_ " he asked. From her tone, it seemed like it could.

Sabrina closed her eyes and nodded. "Yes," she said. She leaned up and pressed her mouth again his, then murmured, "For a little while."

That was a relief. It had been weeks since they'd last been together like this, and though he'd tried to be patient, he didn't want to wait anymore. He sighed as she wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his chest, the sensation as soft and light as a flutter of wings. He found himself purring louder, which made her laugh when she noticed it. He smiled at the sound, which he'd been aching for just as much as her touch. He leaned into her hands as she stroked his stomach, his thighs, and at the sensitive area between them.

He enjoyed her ministrations for a minute, before reluctantly taking her hands and moving them back up his body. He wanted to make these moments last, to make the eventual release that much more satisfying, and it would be over too quickly if she kept that up. Besides, he shouldn't be the only one enjoying himself. Giving her another, deeper kiss, he reached for the sash of her robe and tugged it loose, then slid the silk down her shoulders. As the robe slithered to their feet, she shivered, but then moaned when he kneaded at the tense muscles at the base of her spine and at her backside. As he continued to work on her, he watched how her face flushed and how her chest rose and fell as her breathing quickened. She was slick by the time he reached between her legs to stroke her.

She moaned at the pleasure of his touch and, as her need grew, tugged him back to the bed. He followed her onto the mattress and crouched over her, trailing kisses down her jawline and throat. He lapped at her breasts, at her stomach, at the folds of flesh between her legs. She tasted like the sea. He paused to chuckle at how she gasped and squirmed in response, then continued to lick into her until she told him breathlessly to stop. He pulled back and met her eyes; hers were half-closed and glazed with desire. She gestured for him to come back up to her, but instead he smirked and pulled back. Let her follow him this time.

Sabrina made a frustrated sound and threw a pillow at him, which missed him by a wide margin. As he laughed, she rose onto her knees and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him against her. She bit at his neck—unlike her, he could earn the occasional mark, and she knew he enjoyed being a little sore from their lovemaking afterwards. He groaned and dug his fingers into her hips as she reached down and stroked him to readiness. He babbled something when she pushed him onto his back and licked along the length of him, his words—even in telepathy—indistinct, but still appreciative.

When he moaned for her to come up and kiss him again, she pretended to misinterpret where he meant. That earned her another plea and a smack on the rump from his tail. Laughing, she crawled over him and pecked his muzzle, then laughed harder when he grabbed her and rolled her beneath him. He waited until she'd caught her breath to grab one of her knees and lift her leg over his hip. As he rubbed against her, she raked her nails down his chest and hissed for him to stop teasing her. He smiled and obliged her, sinking into her and groaning at the rush of pleasure. She moaned at the feeling of him filling her up and squeezed her legs around him. She definitely wouldn't be letting him go now.

His thrusts were slow and shallow at first, which Sabrina thought might drive her mad, but then he picked up the pace and drove deeper into her, giving her exactly what she'd needed. She rocked her hips in response, then let down her mental shield so she could enjoy his pleasure as well. He'd already let his own barrier fall, and as the sensations they were feeling bolstered one another, he buried his face into the pillow above her shoulder and yowled. She muffled her own cries against his fur, then felt her body break out into goosebumps as her first orgasm swept through her. It never took long when she was with him.

Maybe that was why she kept coming back to him, no matter her doubts when they were apart. No matter how skilled her husband might be, it wasn't the same as this. It wasn't nearly as intimate or intense. It wasn't nearly as _addictive_. Mewtwo felt like a _revelation_ compared to the partners she'd had before him. How could she be satisfied with anyone else after experiencing sex with him? She couldn't. Maybe that was weak of her, but she couldn't. But it had been the same for him—he'd left his mate for her. For _this._

 _That's right,_ his voice echoed in her mind when she remembered that. _And I would do it for you again._ She shuddered underneath him when he kissed her, when he grabbed her hips and started thrusting harder as his own peak neared. When it hit, white light washed through both of their minds. When it faded, they sank into the sheets together, their bodies still singing with pleasure.

They spent the next few minutes sharing lazy touches and putting their mental shields back up layer by layer. When it was done and they were comfortably back in their own skins, the clone sighed into her ear. Sabrina was soft and warm in his arms, and the way she was stroking his cheek was soothing, like the sound of the rain on the roof above them. Eventually, though, he realized how parched he was. He glanced at her vanity—the wine was there, as it usually was. He sat up and drew the glass to them with his telekinesis. He grasped it with both paws and sipped from it. It held a drier vintage than he'd expected, but it was still satisfying. He licked his chops at the taste, then offered the glass to her. She shook her head.

He lifted an eyebrow. " _Are you worried you'll like the taste of it too much?"_ he teased her. When she didn't even smile in response, he frowned. Her mood had dampened for some reason, like a linen left out in the rain. " _Is something wrong?_ " he asked.

"Not exactly," she said.

" _You said we needed to talk about something earlier,"_ he remembered. " _Is this related to that?"_

She nodded. He waited for her to speak. She opened her mouth a few times, trying to figure out how to broach the topic, before she decided not to hedge. "I'm pregnant."

She looked uncertain and a little scared, though not, he thought, of him. As she pressed a hand to her still flat stomach, he set the wine aside and drew her back into his arms. He could feel his heart pounding, but one of them needed to stay calm during this conversation, didn't they? After he was confident that he could speak in a steady voice, he asked, " _Do you know whose it is?_ "

Despite the differences between them, he was still human enough to make a child with her. They had done so when they were younger, albeit through immaculate means (their first time together had happened later. It had been an experiment—a _mistake—_ that they'd never planned to repeat). That had been the bargain they'd made: a child for him and his mate to raise, in exchange for his services after the child was grown. A few years later, though, their dream had turned to ashes: the girl had died from a fever.

Mew had been inconsolable afterwards. Maybe being an immortal had made losing a loved one that much more incomprehensible to her. Maybe death had been a distant thing to her before then. He hadn't known—and he hadn't known how to help her, either. So in the end, he'd only made things worse. He hadn't meant to. He'd only been trying to keep up his end of the bargain, but he had been drawn to Sabrina—despite her occupation and her husband—instead. He'd drifted away from Mew in the process, and when Mew had told him to make a choice, he'd struggled with it…but in the end, he hadn't chosen her. He hadn't seen Mew since then.

And now he and Sabrina were back where they'd started: with the dream of a child between them. Except this time, her mate might come to harm over it, instead of his. If the child belonged to him, that is. It might not.

Sabrina confirmed that by saying, "I don't know yet." The rain poured harder, beating at the window. The sound of it nearly drowned out her whisper as she added, "But I hope it's yours."

He ran his fingers through her hair. " _Are you certain that that's what you want? If this child is born with my likenesses, Giovanni will learn the truth about us. He'll be hurt. And while he has…improved_ …." Them being able to have a working relationship was proof enough of that. _"…I can't imagine that he would be forgiving_."

Sabrina flinched. "I know." She knew he was right. If this child did belong to Mewtwo and her husband discovered that, his heart would be broken. He might slide back into the darkness he'd escaped from only a few years ago. She didn't want either of those things. She still cared for him, even if it wasn't the same way that she loved the clone. She still admired how Giovanni had overcome his troubled childhood, how he'd shouldered the weight of ruling Team Rocket after his mother's death, and how he'd set that life aside to pursue a more peaceful one with her. She still appreciated his friendship and his passion, and still felt steadied by him when they were together.

And the three of them had been happy these last few years, hadn't they? How many dinners and debates had they enjoyed? How many venues had they visited together? How many private jokes and memories did they share, which their other friends didn't understand? Mewtwo and Sabrina were risking all of that by carrying on the way they were. But every time they'd had their doubts before now, they'd lain awake at night and wondered, "Can we really give this up?"

Now the decision might be made for them. If the child was Mewtwo's, the truth would come out eventually. Their betrayal would have gained flesh and bone. It would have gained the ability to look up at Giovanni and smile. Though maybe they would be fortunate. Maybe black hair would win out over pale fur. Maybe dark eyes would rule over violet ones. Maybe the child would inherit Giovanni's stern brow and not the clone's. There was no way to know until it was born.

Even though Mewtwo's heart felt heavy at that thought, he shifted so he could kiss her stomach. " _I will stay with you both, whatever happens."_ Even if this child wasn't his, it was still hers, and that was enough for him.

She gave him a tender look and touched his cheek. "I love you."

" _I love you too, 'Rina_ ," he said. He wouldn't be risking so much to be with her if he didn't. He kissed her again, then extended his senses experimentally, wanting to see if he could feel the growing life within her. After a minute, he managed it, and as he looked into the tiny glow of it, he said, " _I think it might be a boy."_

"I suppose we'll have to wait and see, won't we?"

He grabbed the blanket at their feet and pulled it over them as he moved back up the bed. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as he settled down next to her. " _Why don't you rest? I will be here when you wake up."_

Some of the worry gnawing at her eased at that. She burrowed herself into his arms and fell asleep soon afterwards. Mewtwo remained awake for a while longer, watching the fluttering of her eyelashes as she dreamed. Then, when his own eyelids felt heavy, he glanced at the candles on the vanity. They extinguished one by one under his power, and once the room was in darkness, he allowed himself to drift off as well.

When dawn arrived, quiet and gray, they placed the candles in the vanity drawer and locked them away. They poured the wine down the bathroom drain and washed the glass. They bundled up the bedclothes and put them in the laundry. They threw open the window to air out the scents of sex and jasmine. They showered separately, knowing it would defeat the purpose of bathing if they came out smelling like each other. Finally, after she was dressed, Mewtwo slid Sabrina's wedding ring back onto her finger. It was time to go back to pretending…but he couldn't resist giving her one more kiss before they did.

Outside, the sun rose, burning away the rain.


	3. Saffron Moon, Chapter 1: Spring Flowers

**SAFFRON MOON**

* * *

 _Chapter 1: Spring Flowers_

* * *

Sabrina met Mewtwo for the first time at her local library.

Saffron City, the capital of Kanto, had numerous attractions: the Silph Company Headquarters, with its annual Master Ball giveaways; the Fighting Dojo, with its frequent contests and rare fighting type pokémon; the Magnet Train Station, where fresh flowers from Goldenrod City were delivered every morning; and the Saffron Gym and Clematis Academy, where psychic readings were offered at every cultural festival. Compared to these, the Saffron City Library wasn't as exciting, but it was still an impressive sight, boasting seven sprawling levels.

The ground floor was devoted to new books, children's literature, and television shows and movies. The second housed young adult and graphic novels. The third was filled with adult literature, with sizeable mystery, science fiction, fantasy, and romance sections. The fourth carried classical literature, poems, and plays, while the fifth focused on non-fiction and reference materials. The sixth was the library archive, with boxes of photographs, portfolios of newspaper clippings, and shelves of microfilm. The seventh contained the library's rarest and oldest books, kept under glass and key, which a patron would need gloves and librarian-issued pass to access. Since the elevator would only go up to the sixth level, and the stairway ended in a locked door, teenagers would often whisper that the seventh level was where the dirty books were kept. Despite the sighs and rolled eyes of the librarians, these rumors persisted with each new batch of students.

Sabrina would have come to the library for the books alone, but she liked what else it offered her: glimpses into the lives of her fellow Saffonites. The levels they visited told her a little about who they were. The first three levels attracted a variety of people, some young, some old, but all of them interested in escaping from their normal lives for a while. Those who frequented the fourth through sixth floors were of a more scholarly bent, either by choice—the college students and their professors—or by inclination. Those who entered the seventh level were often those in training: to preserve the pages of the books, to decode the passages within them, and to learn the best ways to fight off silverfish and fading ink.

Sabrina wasn't drawn to any one of these three groups more than the others. What she looked for, instead, were the people who drifted through all the levels—the ones who barely touched the chairs, tables, or computers, but instead preferred to wander between the shelves, selecting a variety of tomes to try. There was a curiousness to their hearts and an openness to their minds which appealed to Sabrina, though she didn't often approach them. She didn't like being disturbed during her own perusing, and so saw no reason to interrupt them in theirs.

So when Sabrina first met Mewtwo, she was not the one who approached him. That evening, she sat on a bench in the library's wooded courtyard, reading poetry as the sunlight faded and fireflies flickered over the flower beds. The cherry blossoms had mostly fallen by then, but their shed petals still filled the air with their heavy sweetness. Sabrina had set her shoes into a pile of them an hour ago, though she would have to don them again soon, when the streetlamps lit up, signaling that it was time for her to head home.

Mewtwo, cloaked and familiar with the alleyways leading to the library, made his way into the depths of the grove. He was planning to wait there until the library closed, and then teleport inside to spend a few hours reading whatever caught his eye. He went to the edge of the courtyard, intending to watch the last patrons trickle out and listen for the doors being locked. He paused when he saw Sabrina sitting on the bench, and then stared at how the lights from the fireflies sparked gold in the red of her eyes. She was wearing a blouse of the same color, along with a black skirt and leggings. What perhaps most entranced him, though, was the melody that rose in the back of his mind as he watched her. A moment later, he recognized the rhythm and rhyme as a poem, and saw the moon it spoke of in his mind's eye. Her aura blazed as her voice dipped and rose, though her lips did not move, and he realized that she must be a psychic, like him.

Though he wasn't fond of humans, and didn't think he ever would be, he was intrigued by this one. Human psychics were rare; one of her strength was even rarer. He looked her over again, noting her black hair, the gloves upon her hands, and the pokéballs on her belt. Giovanni had described Sabrina Vance, the Saffron Gym Leader, to him once, and it seemed probable that this was her, given her appearance and where they were. Giovanni had told him some of the rumors about her as well, when he'd thought that Mewtwo had looked curious about her: how her childhood friends had died under mysterious circumstances; how she'd pushed the boundaries of her abilities and pushed her parents away in the process; and how she'd dominated the trainers who'd entered her lair, leaving them pale and trembling afterwards. Giovanni had spoken about her with something like respect, up until he revealed that Sabrina had softened in recent years, turning her talents towards teaching, rather than terrorizing, instead.

There had even been a rumor about her turning people into dolls, which Giovanni had taken no stock in, and Mewtwo wasn't inclined to believe either. But it occurred to him now that Sabrina's history seemed to parallel his own. He looked at her belt, at the pokéballs, and tried to sense what was inside of them. A venomoth fluttered in one, a mr. mime kicked in another, a drowzee drowsed in his, while a kadabra and an alakazam meditated in theirs. All of them seemed to be well-trained and content with where they were. Something in him loosened at that—a lingering wariness, perhaps. At least she did not mistreat the creatures in her care. He seemed to remember her having another pokémon, though. A ghost, hadn't it been? But the creature must be more of a pet, since it wasn't on her active team.

Perhaps he'd ask her what kind it was. Why not meet her and speak with her now that he had the opportunity to do so? If she proved to be a danger to him, he could always teleport away, or erase her memories of him if she truly posed a threat. But if she'd truly softened as Giovanni had suggested…maybe that could lead to something _interesting_. In truth, he was rather fond of Saffron City, with its many attractions, its useful position in the heart of Kanto, and its surrounding meadows and hills. To know someone of high social standing within it could prove to be beneficial to him.

That and she was pleasant to look upon. _For a human,_ he reminded himself.

Checking with his senses to make sure that no one else was nearby, he stepped out from the trees and walked towards her. She glanced up at the movement and, as he stopped a few paces from her, her brow furrowed. He wondered if anyone had been able to shield their auras from her before, and supposed that the answer was no, given the awe that passed over her face. Then she smiled, seeming amused, and placed a red ribbon—her bookmark—into the pages of her book and closed it. She leaned back to look up at him.

"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked him. "Or are you staring at me like that for some other reason?"

Her tone was light, but even so, he decided to be cautious. " _I was wondering if you could give me some directions. Do you know the way to Clematis Academy? I have heard that stray psychics might find shelter there, at least for a spell._ "

Sabrina stood up in one graceful motion and stepped towards him. Fireflies flickered between them. "I know the way," she said, "though you will have to earn your keep. All adults who come to us do."

" _And what would that entail?"_ he asked. He could think of a few ways. Not all of them seemed unpleasant.

She considered him, her red eyes sparkling from a thought that he did not catch. "If your inclination is to teach, we could use more mentors for our students. Otherwise, there are odd jobs around the grounds that you could do."

He nodded. " _I am certain there are services that I could offer in exchange. But would you be willing to let a pokémon join you without a trainer, or would you insist that I be caught and tamed?_ "

"Would you _like_ to be tamed?" she asked, her eyebrow inching upwards. When he scowled, she laughed. The sound rang pleasantly in his ears. She shook her head. "You're a psychic. What else you are doesn't matter to me. But just to be safe, do you have another guise that you could wear in public? If you do, that would deter anyone from trying to catch you."

Mew had taught him a few tricks before they'd parted ways. Her transformation technique had been one of them. " _I do. If it pleases you, I can change into it now."_

Sabrina's eyes gleamed. "Please do. Afterwards, I'll walk you to the academy." She telekinetically tugged her shoes towards herself and slipped them on, all the while watching him.

Mewtwo nodded and shifted in a shower of azure light. His tail vanished, his legs straightened, his fingers split, his muzzle flattened, and his fur melted into flesh. His eyes were the only parts of him that remained unchanged, still almond-shaped and amethyst in hue. They flashed blue as he stepped forward and extended his arm to Sabrina. She looked his human form up and down, her eyes resting on the white bristles of his chin and the shaggy hair on his head. Her other hand reached up, almost as if she wanted to touch his beard, but then it fell back to her side.

As she led him under the streetlamps, which were turning on ahead of them, she said, "May I ask your name?"

He smiled as he gazed down at her and answered, " _Mewtwo_."


End file.
